I'm scheming why my feelings tacit, taut, strung together,
Brung forever, dreaming as if love was a feather

Falling from the headpiece of the object of my desires 
Effort; a pleasure I receive never.

Craving her perfect form, 
Evermore she turns my soul to storms.

She leaves me paper torn, burning acid poured.
As if more was less and less is more.

Stress makes sore and breath is raw,
Running to my unholy war.

She's my empress or delilah cold:
A temptress I'm dying for like blood soaks a rag orange.

I'm a bag torn, worthless to her,
She uses me then tosses in trash.

Abusing me, flossing like my skin was wax, 
Taxing me without a reason, an awful thorn

On a thin rose, pulled between perfect teeth
Then chewed and spat out the door.

She's like the pimp,
And I'm the whore fucked on all fours.